Look how the flowers
wear their beautiful garments
for the spring banquet

©LovelynEyo

Sometimes
We need no pills
To heal.



Sometimes
Therapy
Is no remedy still.



Sometimes
Nothing can mend
A broken heart like WORDS.

I slept with​ the moon smiling at me
    I dreamed of you.
But not all dreams come true,
    Because sometimes,
          We die in our dreams.

Poetry
Releases me
From my world
Of warmth. From the
Edges of the environs.



Do
Not worry about
It being safe. For my lover
Has my back.



Caressing
Ideas into
My head. She whispers.



She
Is my
Cosy cloak
My warm milk,
While the emotions of
My heart spits 'chilly' like the
Climate of  Winter fell.



She
Is my
Three-eyed raven.
I am her Brian-the-broken
Even in the darkest of nights
She illuminates upon my pain.



She is poetry.
The food I feast on.
The liquid which I gulp.